


Incognito

by Crouching Queer (Subarucomet)



Category: Cable and Deadpool, Deadpool (Movieverse), Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, M/M, Porn Watching, Sexual Tension, watching porn for the first time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-13 17:09:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14752916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Subarucomet/pseuds/Crouching%20Queer
Summary: Deadpool introduces Cable to porn.The video, Deadpool realises belatedly, is way too quiet. There's no cheesy bass line that gets stuck in his head and makes him feel each pulse in his dick. There's just the soft rustling of clothes against skin as the man strips. It's got an aesthetic to it, but it doesn't stop Deadpool from hearing the catch in Cable's breath once the man steps out of his underwear and crawls on to the desk.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My lesbian ass watched gay porn for this. Never say I'm not committed to being a trash pile.

Cable stays at his apartment. He never asked, but Wade couldn't really refuse him. Cable's got some serious puppy dog eyes (eye?) on him and a very frightening techno-organic arm; Wade's always had a soft spot for strays, especially the rabid ones. Plus, he figured Cable would leave soon enough of his own accord because Wade isn't by any stretch of the imagination a 'good roommate.'

Wade tries to piss him off a couple of times, if only to maintain his image, and takes to wandering around in his underwear. Cable barely notices, which is fine for a while. Nate's complete unflappability only starts to chafe when Wade breaks out his special Valentine's Day panties and doesn't even get a surreptitious head turn. Wade finds that straight up offensive because he _knows_ his ass looks spectacular in those

Nate, unknowingly, has declared war, and if this be a war, it is a war Deadpool, first of his name, will win. It's lucky for Wade that he wouldn't know shame if it offered to blow him in a back alley.

The next morning, Wade wakes up early and readies everything for Nate's arrival. He lies across the couch with his laptop on his thighs, screen pointing in the direction of the kitchen island, and opens up his favourite skeezy Wolverine porn flick. He slides the volume up to maximum, and lets the tinny sounds of Wolverine getting pounded by Scott Summers wash over him.

Nate leaves his bedroom, like clockwork, at exactly nine. He doesn't comment on the noise and makes a beeline for the kitchen. Perfect.

"You wanna know what I'm watching?" Deadpool asks unprompted, toes wiggling with excitement. He's impatient but only because he knows he's won.

To Deadpool's disappointment, Nate doesn't respond and cracks four raw eggs into a glass.

"Arthouse cinema." He says in his most mysterious voice. Nate's going to crack any second now.

Cable says something that sounds suspiciously like that's nice.

"Of your dad."

It's a cheap shot but somehow it gets Cable to look up, and for one perfect moment Deadpool can see total and complete incomprehension on his face. Victory, thou art the sluttiest and most satisfying of emotions.

"What _is_ that?" Cable says, mildly horrified but Deadpool can still see genuine confusion on his face, which is odd because the stuff he's watching right now is pretty vanilla.

"He's not actually your dad, buddy. The movieverse totally retconned—"

"No, Wade... What am I seeing?"

Is Nate really asking—? No. He can't be, that's absurd. "It's not really Wolverine..."

"Wade. I know that.” Cable says, like he thinks Deadpool's trying to fuck with him on purpose. The fifth egg is poised in his hand and he's waiting for an answer.

"Porn..." He says a little incredulously. Deadpool feels a little stupid for even saying it. A horrifying thought dawns on him. "Please tell me there's porn in the future."

Nate's silence tells him more than any verbal response could.

" _Oh my fetish gear wearing Jesus_. There's no porn in the future? Cause that's not a future Captain America died for, good thing Marvel is always bringing him—"

Nate clears his throat and raises his hand like he wants to say something. Deadpool lets him because he's not sure he knows anything anymore. If he had to put money on what would last into the future, it would have been on pornhub.

"There is pornography in the future."

Deadpool sighs, somewhere in the distance, the sirens turn off. The world continues to turn. Everything is fine.

"It's just highly regulated to the point of being literally impossible to obtain."

Everything is not fine. "What in the fuck do you mean?"

Nate shrugs. "It happened somewhere in 2035. Religion. The government...” He trails off, like that somehow explains the death of all that is good in the world.

"Wow, the future sucks balls."

Nate smiles, a wry curl of mouth that's barely noticeable. "It does."

There's a beat of silence. Deadpool can't help himself. "So have you ever seen porn before?"

"I haven't." Nate says shortly before downing his glass of egg yolks and self-hatred.

"Do you want to?" Deadpool says before he can think to stop himself. And, he rationalises to himself, he's just being a good buddy by offering to introduce Cable to the double-D wonders of the past.

Nate doesn't choke, but Deadpool does see the line of his shoulders tense. It's an endless second for the glass to finish. Nate wipes his mouth roughly with the back of his hand and looks at Deadpool, considering. Wade's stomach is in his throat. It was a stupid question, Nate would never—

"Sure." Cable says, squaring his shoulders. "Why not?"

* * *

 

Cable's sitting next to him on the threadbare sofa, body angled towards Wade. The silence between them isn't awkward, but it is strained. Wade doesn't know if he's quiet because he can't think of anything to say or because the words have clogged in his throat in their haste to spew out. The Wolverine video has finished by now and there's a list of superhero themed recommendations on the screen. The thumbnail where the cursor hovers over shows short flashes of video: a woman in a mask sucking cock, a costumed figure riding dick, standard pornographic fare. The choice is kind of overwhelming.

"You, uh, got any preferences?" Deadpool asks, feeling more than a little lost. "Dicks, feet, guns?" He mimes shooting with finger guns. It’s only slightly pathetic.

Cable grunts. "I'll leave it to you."

Deadpool silently curses him. Nate's a total type A and _this_ is the time he chooses to let Deadpool have the reins? It's so fucking unfair that he wants to punch something. At least he's got the tool for his revenge in front of him. With a relish that only comes from taking joy in tarnishing innocence, Wade types in gay silver daddy and lets the internet do the work for him.

He browses until he finds a guy who could kind of pass as Cable in a pinch. Cable, thankfully, chooses not to comment on it and settles into the couch cushions with an air of curious expectation, like they’re both about to watch a true crime documentary. It's sort of like being in middle school again, at a sleepover where someone has snuck in a VHS stolen from their elder brother. No one knows what to expect but they know it will change them.

"You gotta pay for this?" Cable asks, out of the blue.

"Not since 2000. Although, before then I just jerked it to X-files."

Cable nods like that makes sense. Duchovny's a real fox.

The screen goes dark for a second and there's an intro. The production house seems to be decently reputable, which is comforting. Deadpool doesn't really want to get into explaining the dynamics of safe porn production. It's apparently about Mormon twins getting fucked by older guys and the voice over is equal parts overwrought and oddly compelling. It's not Bea Arthur or the Olsen twins, but it isn't bad.  Deadpool could probably have picked this and jerked off to it at some point.

Wade is struck by the sudden urge to apologise for picking gay porn. Cable had had a wife, right? Deadpool checks from the corner of his eyes. Nate's definitely focused on the screen, pupils wide as he watches the guy put on his clothes. His breathing hasn't picked up but he's got a glazed sort of look that comes with most higher reasoning ability shutting down.

The scene changes and Fake Mormon Daddy shows up, sitting behind a desk. He looks less like Nate than he expected from the preview: he hasn't got the same haircut, but there's something in the cut of his jaw and the intensity of his eyes that's familiar. He looks a little like a supervillain. Deadpool snorts, Cult leader Cable vs. Colossus, he'd read that.

The video, Deadpool realises belatedly, is way too quiet. There's no cheesy bass line that gets stuck in his head and makes him feel each pulse in his dick. There's just the soft rustling of clothes against skin as the boy strips. It's got an aesthetic to it, but it doesn't stop Deadpool from hearing the first catch in Cable's breath once the boy steps out of his underwear and crawls on to the desk.

On the screen, the man rests a large hand on the twink's back, pushing it down so there's a pleasing little arch. It's a fairly typical porn move, but Deadpool notices a wedding ring on his finger as he squeezes the kid's ass. He feels his dick stiffen, trapped beneath the laptop. Deadpool glances over, Cable isn't hard yet.

It's on the tip of his tongue. _Having a little trouble there? It happens with age. You want me to help_? Deadpool would reach out and touch him and Cable would knock one of his teeth out. A perfectly normal interaction. He doesn't say anything though.

The man presses his fingers in the boy's soft mouth and he deep-throats them with the performative discomfort of someone used to playing a virgin. Cable doesn't know that but Deadpool's still surprised when he asks: "Is this the guy's first time?" His voice is deeper than usual, but he sounds concerned.

"Nah," Deadpool says, "otherwise they would have advertised it." He doubts anyone would have their first time recorded. It’d look too awkward. He wants to mention that the way the guy rocks into the throat-fucking is way too practiced for him to be anything but a pro. He wants to point out all the little things you pick up after watching porn for almost two decades, but he doesn't. Cable will figure it out on his own.

They lapse into silence again, watching a pretty mediocre blow job. But it's still a blowjob and he's human, so his semi turns into a full on erection. His thighs are sweaty too. He's only in his boxers and he can feel the metal bottom of the laptop stick to his skin.

The man slips his dick into the boy, zero prep, and Wade can feel Cable cringe. The porn's been vaguely realistic up till that point so Deadpool takes pity. "They did it beforehand."

"Huh?" Cable grunts, not quite understanding what Deadpool is talking about. So Cable does get sex stupid, Wade files that away for later.

"The ass fucking prep." Deadpool makes a lewd scissoring motion with his fingers.

Cable hums in acknowledgement, clearly distracted. His eyes trained on Deadpool's lap, which is slightly uncomfortable. It does, however, give Deadpool a perfect view of the flush spreading from the bottom of Cable's neck, right to his cheeks. It's endearing, in an old white guy sort of way. All in all, this ranks as the seventh weirdest thing to happen to Deadpool, right after time he caught Logan crying while watching the Notebook and then got stabbed in the skull. Five times.

The scene progresses and soon Porn star Cable is fucking the twink roughly, pulling his ass off the desk to get a better angle. The kid’s moaning turns breathier as the guy ruts into him with his head bent forward. The camera angle changes and there's a certain shot which just captures the sharp outline of the man's nose and chin, the white streaks in his hair and he looks just like Cable for one breathless moment. Except Cable's sitting next to him, radiating heat and transfixed desire.

The bottom of the laptop is getting hot to the point of being uncomfortable and there's the quiet sound of the fan working inside it, a little hum beneath the soft, wet noises and the harsh tremor of their breathing. It’s surprisingly visceral, the sensory input is almost overwhelming. He wants to close his eyes but that’s the coward’s way out, instead he lets his eyes unfocus and clenches and unclenches his thighs to get the blood flow to redirect away from his dick. He's been moderately successful so far but it's then that he catches sight of their distorted reflections in the laptop screen. Cable's _hard_.  Time-traveling, chap-stick wearing, stick so far up his ass, he's an honorary muppet Cable is hard. Next to him.

Holy shit.

Deadpool feels a little faint. It's probably because all of the blood in his brain has drained into his dick. This is not how he expected the day to go. He doesn't dare turn his head and see if Cable's dick is as big as it looked in the dark mirror of his laptop screen.

He checks the video. It's only got five minutes left. He can handle a measly five minutes. He's not a teenager. He can do this. He leans back and breathes slowly through his nose and tucks his hands beneath his legs. He doesn't need the temptation.

It is then that Cable decides to moan. It's a quiet thing, a soft little _ah_ as he inhales, just when Porn Cable comes all over the twink. Deadpool's brain does the human equivalent of the blue screen of death. Whatever remains of his reason decides to ship off at that moment and he turns his head. He's horny and helpless and Christ, Cable's so hard there's a wet spot on the front of his pants, a little damp circle that’s darker than the surrounding grey. Deadpool wants to bend down and lick it, wants to pull down Cable’s pants and suck his thick cock. His dick twitches. He could come from just thinking about it—

He closes the laptop lid abruptly.

Cable flinches slightly, obviously not expecting that. “What the fuck, Wade?”

"Watching this stuff will make you go blind." He’s panicked and horny and this is not his best line but he escapes into his room, before Cable can question his erratic behaviour further. He’s careful to hide his erection.

Deadpool heaves a relieved breath once the door closes behind him and tries to take stock of every bad decision he's made in the past thirty minutes. There are a lot but he's used doing this.

He's just left Cable behind. On their—did he just say ‘their’—couch.  With a boner that could cut steel. Hopefully, Cable will attribute this to one of Deadpool’s regular and often messy breaks with sanity. It’s just Deadpool doing Deadpool, you know? Just Deadpool doing Cable—

 _No_. He thinks firmly. _Not the time._

He rubs his head. He's just gotta think; with his fucked-up, constantly rewiring brain that shouldn't be too difficult. He's Zenpool now, about to culturally appropriate more East Asian wisdom. _What would Confucius do?_ He thinks a little desperately. Probably not get into this mess because internet porn didn't exist in ancient China. He needed a contemporary. Bono? Yes. Bono seemed like a modern Jesus. What would Bono do? Fuck, he forgot hated U2. He's not gonna masturbate that’s for sure, not while the outline of Cable's dick is still fresh in his mind. He should probably go kill someone; that always settles him.

With shaking hands he dials up Weasel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5991ee20758d2
> 
> link to the porn


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They fuck.

Weasel picks up on the sixth ring, just as Deadpool is starting to lose hope, because even though he's one of Deadpool's closest friends, he's still the dictionary definition of a veiny penis.

"What's up, buddy?" Weasel asks sleepily. Deadpool checks the time: quarter to ten, way before either of them usually wakes up.

"I need a job." Deadpool says shortly. "A long, preferably messy one."

Weasel whistles. "Trouble with the missus? Although, I guess you're the missus."

"Cheap shot, Weasel. This isn't made by Rob Liefield, we don't need to be gratuitously sexist all the time. And Cable's shorter than me."

"So, I'm right." Weasel says, triumphant.

"I'm glad my sadness brings you so much joy." Wade says, deadpan. "So you got a job for me or what?"

"I do have jobs. Just none for you at the moment."

" _Weasel_." Wade says warningly.

"See, as your friend, I'm deeply invested in your happiness—"

"How much money do you have riding on this?"

"I bet a hundred on you and Cable fucking by the end of the month. Negasonic's put double that on Cable trying to kill you."

Wade nods. Ellie maybe an asshole but she's still smart.

"So." Weasel asks. "What's the dish?"

"This isn't the nineties. No one says that anymore." Wade says, evasive. He considers telling him. Weasel's a gossip and a dick but he occasionally gives good advice, or at least he stops Wade from doing shit that's really, phenomenally stupid. Sometimes. "I watched gay porn together with Cable." It feels surreal to say that aloud. "Platonically." He clarifies a little lamely.

The line goes silent. "Woah, dude, that's like some third date stuff."

Wade graciously ignores that tidbit about Weasel's relationships. His own problems take precedence. "So what do you think?"

"Were you both sober?"

"Yeah." He can't get drunk anymore and he doubts Cable views inebriation as anything more than a state of weakness.  "He'd never seen porn before." He adds softly.

"Holy shit. You took his porn-ginity. That's pretty gay."

"No, shit."

"Well, first things first, that sounds like the beginning of a shitty porno."

"Hey, I'm the only one here allowed to have trope-awareness."

Weasel ignores him. "Wade. Focus. Why did this freak you out?"

"Because uh, I got hard?" Wade says. Does he really need to spell everything out for Weasel?

"It's porn, dude. That's like the fucking point. Wait, quick question, did you call me right after?"

"Yes..." Even Deadpool couldn't see where this was going.

"So your dicks still hard. Gross, man." Weasel makes a loud gagging sound.

Deadpool suddenly understands why he gets stabbed so often. Maybe he should just kill Weasel, it would definitely be more satisfying than murking some nameless target. "Why am I still friends with you?" Deadpool asks, exasperated. He looks down. "Also, I'm not anymore."

"Relax. I'm messing with you." There's a pause and muffled movement like Weasel is sitting up. "Now what's the big deal with getting hard over some porn? Cable's seen your dick before probably, I mean all of us have."

"It wasn't about him seeing my dick. It was about what he was doing to my dick."

"Woah, that's not the mental image I wanted—"

"Could you fucking listen? I got hard cause of him. There was no mutual dick watching or anything."

Weasel sighs. "Wade, that's cool too. He's an objectively hot old guy and you've got daddy issues for days; it was bound to happen." He says this with the sage wisdom of someone used to listening to this kind of shit. He's a bartender for mercenaries. It makes sense.

"But uh, I have like, an emotional thing for him too." Wade cringes for a moment. He sounded pathetic.

Weasel goes quiet again. "So it's serious."

"Why the fuck do you think I'm calling you at 10 am asking to kill someone?"

"Cause you're bored and insane? Did I mention you’re also a fucking mercenary?"

He's made a valid point. Wade can concede that but he still feels irritated.

"Hey, fine, I’ll help.” There’s a crackle, like Weasel’s inhaling sharply through his nose. “Wade, you want my advice? You can't let these shit like this fester, man. Communication’s important. You gotta go out and like tell him how you feel—”

It is a sad day, Wade realises, when has to get lectured on emotional vulnerability by Weasel, a man whose sexual repertoire consists solely of one night stands with insecure college coeds and 60 year old divorcees flush with cash.

"—Or blow him."

"You want me to blow Cable?" Wade asks, incredulous. Did he want Negasonic to win? Or maybe he lied and his money's on Deadpool getting murdered by Cable. That did sound more like him.

"I’m not fucking with you. No sane man would refuse a free blow job." Weasel explains. "And he's less likely to refuse you when you've got your teeth near his family jewels." He sounds weirdly proud of his logic.

"I'm not sexually coercing Cable to be in a relationship with me. Also I don't know if his balls are like metal or something." Christ, what is his life?

"It was just an idea." He can almost hear Weasel shrug. "Just stop freaking out and tell him. The guy isn't gonna leave you. He's living rent free and he likes you."

"He does?" Wade says hopefully. His heart soars, and he feels way too much like an anxious teen girl for it to be healthy.

"Don't be a dumbass. He has to or he would've left by now. Now I'm gonna go back to sleep. Shoot your motherfucking shot, man." With that, Weasel cuts the phone and Wade's left listening to static.

* * *

 He’s reaching for the door just as it clicks open. He startles. It’s Nate on the other side. Tactical avoidance would not be an option then.

“How long have you been out there?”

Nate ignores him, stepping inside his room. “I wasn’t done.”

“What?” Wade asks, feeling like he’s started on the back foot and the distance is just getting larger.

“Watching.” Nate says, reaching for the laptop on his bed. “Watch with me.” It’s not request.

Nate flips open his laptop and starts scrolling through Pornhub dispassionately. The screen is filled with static moments in movement: twisting bodies, pussies stretched pink around cocks; mouth open, eyes closed in ecstasy, expectant. He swallows reflexively, waiting.

“Your world is filthy.” Nate says, and there’s no disapproval there. It’s a fact. “We couldn’t even dream of this stuff.” An ad flashes in the background: _want to get fucked?_

“Yeah.” He says. “We are.”

Wade finally sits next to him, compelled. He wonders if this will become a habit, a part of their lives. He thinks of both of them sitting like this in winter, maybe a little closer because it’s cold, just enough that their hips are brushing against each other and Wade can feel heat leak through the thin material of Nate’s shirt. He doesn't think they would touch, not even then. He wants to though, very much. He curls his finger into fists and breathes. 

“How old were you?” Nate asks meaningfully, fingers pausing on a thumbnail where two men are fucking into a stretched out hole. It plays. Their cocks slide against each other as they move and he can barely see the woman between them. Just as quickly as it started, it stops.

“Hmm? You gotta be clearer.” Wade knows exactly what he’s asking but he wants to hear Nate say it.

“The first time you watched porn?” Cable’s voice is quiet, awkward, a little pause before ‘porn’ likes he’s never said it before. _Fuck. Cunt. Bitch_. Deadpool knows those words roll out loose and easy, but not porn. He can feel the unfamiliarity.

“I don’t know.” Wade says, and he’s being truthful. His knowledge of sex came in fits and starts and it built up constantly. He remembers the first time he opened up an old biology book and flipped to the diagrams of the human body and paused for longer than he should have, an unfamiliar heat building up in his chest that made his skin feel too tight. He remembers turning the page, sweaty-handed and finishing his homework, changed because he now knew, in the dimmest way, want and unfulfilment. The progenitor for what he’s feeling now.

“Tell me what you remember.” Cable’s voice is soft but there’s something dark in it: warm, breathy and harsh. He wants an answer.

Wade thinks. “I was 15. Stole a video from the store, didn’t have any friends to ask from because we moved around a lot. I’d seen porn before then, pictures and magazines and stuff. Never video. I watched it alone.” He was scared because he knew his dad would be home soon. He had to be quick but somehow that made it better. “It was pretty basic stuff. Cheerleaders fucking their jock boyfriends and each other.” He couldn’t look a cheerleader in the eye for a week after that. Or a football player for that matter.

“Did you like it?” Nate asks.

“What is this? 20 Question: Sexual Discovery Edition?”

“Answer the question, Wade.”

“I was a teenager. I liked anything that was vaguely curvy and looked twice at me.”

Nate’s picked a video by now. It’s loading. The grey bar pushing steadily ahead. There are two men, fully clothed and talking. Nate skips ahead. They’re kissing now, passionate and wet. It’s good porn, Wade can tell. Production quality, acting, camera work are all decent.

It’s a pity he can’t appreciate any of it because the hot line of Nate’s body is pressed up behind him. He feels Nate’s arms tugging his hips back towards the center of the bed.

“You could’ve asked me to move.” He rubs his hands over the jut of his hip bone where the residual heat of Nate’s hands linger.

Nate chuckles. “Like it better this way.”

“The porn is getting to your head.” On the screen, one of the men kisses the other man’s forehead. It’s incongruously sweet. “Never picked you for a sap.”

"You don't seem to mind." Nate says pointedly from over his shoulder, eyes focused on Wade's dick.

The room is dark, but it's hard to mistake Wade's erection for anything else, highlighted by the harsh light of the laptop screen in front of him. The thin cotton fabric of his boxers doesn't hide much, stretched tight as it is over Wade’s cock.

The scene’s progressed to some half-clothed, heavy petting but he’s too focused on Nate shifting behind him. Wade turns his head, just to look—

“Eyes ahead,” Nate whispers and Deadpool obeys. His breath is hot on the nape of Deadpool’s neck and the tangle of limbs on the screen blurs. “You know I caught you looking.”

Wade hadn’t exactly been subtle but fear still wells up inside him. “Just checking out the competition.” He says, voice high. “They’ve managed to stay surprisingly faithful to your comic book bulge. Good casting even if they fucked up your height—”

Nate interrupts him. “Quiet, Wade. Just keep watching.”

“Or what, you gonna hit me with a porn pop quiz?”

“Something like that.” Nate says and Wade knows the bastard is trying to be cryptic. His dick can’t deal with cryptic right now.

They lapse into silence, watching. It’s a blowjob. Sloppy but decent. The man’s hip twitch up and he’s fucking the other guy’s face in sharp little strokes, moaning and arching like he’s hurting. His hands are gentle but still firm, holding the other man as he uses him. The video’s a little grainy because he isn’t pathetic enough yet to buy a premium account but Wade’s mind can fill in most of the gaps himself. The strangled purple of the man’s dick slipping in and out of the wet heat of the other man’s mouth. The slickness of saliva all over the man’s mouth, his lips bruised red-raw, fucked wet and soft. It’s not them anymore. It’s him and Cable. He’s on his knees and Cable’s pushing him down—

“You like it.” Cable says, like it’s a revelation.

“It’s sex, buddy. No fucking shit.”

“You want to do that with me.”

Wade lets out a choked moan. His knuckles are white as he grips the bed spread. “How in the fuck do you know that? You don’t have telepathy in this universe unless I didn’t get the memo.”

“I have eyes, Wade. And a brain that I choose to use.” And he says it so condescendingly that Wade’s gonna kill him. But only he’s after he’s come because otherwise he’ll die from blue balls. Cable rests a hand on Wade’s waist. It’s the metal one, Wade can tell, because it’s smooth and cool against his flushed, sweaty skin. “You can touch yourself, if you want.” He says, magnanimous. His thumb strokes Wade’s scarred skin soothingly.

“I’m good.” Deadpool says, just to be contrary and because he hates himself. “You’re welcome to as well.” He shoots back.

“If you want.” There’s a sound, like a zipper being undone. This is unexpected. 

Deadpool flinches, Cable’s gonna jerk himself off. Right behind him. _Mary, ‘virgin’ teen mom of Christ_.

“You sure you’re okay with that?” Cable says. Wade knows he’s got a shit eating grin on his face.

His tongue is thick in his throat but he manages to nod. Cable’s a real fucking asshole but God, does Wade want to turn around, press Cable back into the bed, and fuck him senseless. He doesn’t know if that’s allowed. The tension between them is thick and heavy, but it feels fragile like a taut thread, like it could break if Deadpool pushes too hard or too quick.

There’s sound like elastic being pushed down and then a sigh. Cable’s got his hand around his dick. The slick sounds of the blow job barely filter into Deadpool’s mind. His attention is on the minute vibrations he can feel through his mattress as Cable adjusts and strokes himself.

“ _Fuck_.” Cable whispers softly. “Keep watching, Wade.”

Deadpool’s smart enough to know he’s talking about the porn. The guy’s still getting face-fucked on the screen and he’s moaning like he loves the feeling of being used. The other man’s stroking down his back, and it’s intimate, oddly worshipful.

“You want that, Wade?” Cable asks, voice a hundred fathoms deep and dark.

Wade doesn’t answer. He doesn’t trust himself to.

“You want to hold me down as I’m sucking you off?”

Oh. Wade hadn’t thought of that. It’s not the best dirty talk he’s heard. Cable’s not a talking man but he speaks with a stilted gracelessness Deadpool’s always found appealing. His mind is filled with a rush of images like a dam inside of him has broken. He’s drowning.

He imagines Nate, thin lips stretched over his dick, eyes bright and piercing as Wade fucks his throat. Wade wouldn’t be able to get much of a grip on his hair so maybe he’d push Nate against a wall, hold him steady and fuck his mouth. Nate wouldn’t complain, he’d take it like a soldier. His techno-organic arm would curl around Wade’s ass, hold him there, keep Wade inside the tight heat of his throat. Wade moans, underwear sticky as he leaks over himself.

“Fuck, Nate. Let me touch you. I want to touch you. Fuck the porn. Let me look at you.” Wade knows he’s just a slight push away from begging but he’s too far gone to care if he sounds desperate. It doesn’t matter anyway. The men on the screen don’t matter. Nothing does besides the pulse of his blood in his dick and the sound of Cable's hitching, soft breaths as he touches himself. He pushes the laptop off his outstretched legs. “Please.”

Cable’s silent for a moment and then Wade hears him exhale. “Turn around, Wade.”

Wade does. Cable’s got his dick out, TO hand wrapped around it and he’s leaning back on his elbow, head thrown back as he jerks himself off in tight, harsh strokes. His knees are bent and his legs are wide enough apart that Wade can push himself between them. “Fuck, Nate.”

Wade crawls on top of him, pushing his boxers down over his thighs and pressing down on top of Nate’s body, covering him. Their cocks brush and he rolls his hips, trying to chase that friction. He hears a moan, too close and loud to be anything but Nate. “You like that?” Wade says, thrusting against him again. “Like it when I— _ah_ —touch you?”

Nate’s arms come around his shoulders, holding him close. He doesn’t respond but he’s panting against the shell of Wade’s ear and that’s as much of an answer as Wade’s ever gonna get.

Wade’s fingers find the waistband of Nate’s pants and he pulls them down. He tilts back a little so he can get a closer look at Nate’s dick. “I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours.” He faux-whispers.

Nate huffs out a little laugh but he pushes his hips up and lets Deadpool strip him. Nate’s got scars, curling all over his body. Nothing like Wade’s but they’re still angry raised lines bisecting his chest, thighs, arms. The metal, he notices, extends down past his hip but doesn’t reach his dick. Wade reaches around and cups his ass, nodding approvingly. “Buns of steel.”

Cable laughs a little louder at that and the sound fills Deadpool with a warmth entirely unlike the one heavy in his gut but it still feels good. He’s about to say something else but Cable’s pulling him down and kissing him.

Nate’s mouth is blood-hot and wet and he tastes like coffee and egg yolks. It’s disgusting but he can’t get enough of it. He can feel Nate’s metal hand reaching down between their stomachs, curling around both of their dicks and stroking them in tandem. Deadpool shudders, cock jerking as Nate touches him for the first time. Nate’s hand is smooth there’s so much pre-come and sweat slicking the space between them that it doesn’t feel like anything he’s done before.

Nate’s other hand finds his ass, encouraging him to rut forward into the tight heat in between them and Deadpool obliges, moving up on his knees to get more leverage.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ —” He doesn’t know if that’s the video, Nate or him. He doesn’t care.

Nate pulls back, licking the sweat from the divot behind Wade’s ear with his warm, pink tongue, before pressing a soft kiss there and Wade comes, eyes clenched shut and mouth round as an O. Nate comes not long after, using Deadpool’s semen as slick.

Deadpool rolls off him with a contented sigh, ready to fall back asleep with Cable next to him.

“You look like an idiot when you come, by the way.” Nate says, reaching for Wade’s discarded boxers to clean the mess on his stomach.

“Fuck you.” Wade say sleepily.

“I don’t think you can get hard that quickly again.”

Wade cracks open one eye to try and glare at Nate, this franchise was not made for more than one wise-cracking mercenary but he gets distracted. “Hey, those are my nice boxers.”

Cable grunts like he doesn’t care, throws the boxers down by the side of the bed and curls up behind Wade. It’s unexpectedly nice.

Wade relaxes into Nate’s body but he’s still a little pissed. “I know you’re trying to be the big spoon here, but you’re four inches shorter than me so this is technically jet packing.”

“Shut the fuck up and go to sleep.” Nate sounds tired but fond.

Wade decides to listen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory link to porn: https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=1511243683
> 
> Haha, I have 6 exams and yet I choose to do this.


End file.
